


Slow Road

by writerdot



Series: Silver Linings [5]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:50:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdot/pseuds/writerdot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something isn't clicking, and he can't figure out what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Road

The sun is just beginning to set when Wilson pulls up in front of the little blue house. He puts the car into park and turns the key, pulling it out, feeling the ridges of house keys bite into his hand as he palms them. He stares at them and exhales slowly as he leans back against his seat, skull falling heavily in to the head rest.

He’s tired, exhausted, actually, but feels…well, he isn’t really precisely sure how he feels right now. His day went better than he could have hoped.

But something isn’t clicking, and he can’t figure out what. It began as a tiny knot of anxiety budding in his chest as he left to begin his first day at his new job. At first, he'd thought it was just first-day-nerves. But, by the time he’d finished, later than intended, the knot had turned into a brick sitting in his stomach.

With another slow sigh, he reaches for the car handle but stops before the tips of his fingers touch it.

He looks at the house, into the windows that are lit up in the living room. He can see the vague flickering of light against the empty couch that tells him that the TV is on. So wherever House is, he’s home.

He’s not sure why he should be surprised by that. Where else can House go?

And that’s when he realizes exactly what’s been bothering him all day. He remembers what he'd said to House this morning about being worried about what House would do with himself.

He gets to live his life. He’s got this new job, in a new place with his own name. He’s got someone waiting for him when he’s done for the day. He feels stable.

And, maybe, just maybe, that scares him a little. Because how long, exactly, can that last?

House is hardly the picture of domesticity. Wilson always found himself lucky if he didn’t get to House’s place to see the man eating baked beans out of can with a fork (“because the spoons are dirty, duh”). The amount of times he’d tried to get House to take up cooking again were numerous.

He’d even managed to work it in between angsting about starting the new job, as something to occupy his mind when Wilson starts work. House’s response…well, considering House had been nothing but supportive (in his Houseian way), Wilson hadn’t been surprised, after the fact, that House hadn’t responded positively.

“Look, I know multi-tasking for you is nagging, worrying and being passive aggressive all at the same time, but maybe stick to one, okay? You’re giving me a migraine.”

When Wilson had retorted that saying ‘multi-tasking’ and ‘at the same time’ in one sentence sounded redundant, House poked him in the stomach with his cane. Then they’d began kissing against a tall pile of boxes.

And that had been that.

At the time, anyway. But he knows now that what he wants is to make sure that nothing happens to make House regret giving up everything. Because if this feels good, now, what’s going to happen when House gets bored, fed up, and realizes exactly what it is he’s done?

Yeah, Wilson has his own name, a new job and a house that, if he were completely honest with himself, hasn’t quite started to feel like home, yet. But he’s also got House. What happens if he doesn’t anymore?

The street lights are coming on now, one startles him out of his reverie as it shines directly in his face like a spotlight.

When he hears a sharp rap on the window, his over-tired brain briefly wonders if streetlights have learned to knock, now, too. He shakes his head at himself as the passenger side door opens and a familiar head pops through.

“What’s up, pookie bear?”

Wilson can’t suppress the huff of a laugh as House settles into the seat next to him.

“What have a told you about that pet name?”

“Right,” House answers, getting comfortable, settling his cane between his thighs. He looks at Wilson with innocence that he knows Wilson won’t buy for a milli-second. “We settled on ‘Interim Dean of Medicine,’ instead. I.D.M., for short.”

Wilson snorts. “That’s my title at the hospital, not so much a term of endearment.”

“Well, damn. Guess I’ll have to keep trying.”

“I’m sure that will be delightful,” Wilson responds wryly.

“For me, it will.” House shoots him a speculative look.“You’re stalling. Is there a reason you’ve been sitting out here in a hot car for the last ten minutes? Did today not go well?”

Wilson pointedly shoves the key in the ignition, turns the engine, letting it idle, and turns the air conditioner on, without saying a word.

House reaches over and pokes him in the cheek with an index finger. “Smartass. Let me rephrase that. Tell me the reason you’ve been sitting in your car when I saw you pull up ten minutes ago. Better?”

Wilson is silent for a moment as he looks at the steering wheel. He doesn’t need to look at House to know he’s staring holes into the side of his head, but his lover remains silent and lets him work it out for himself.

“Are you bored?” he blurts out before he can change his mind. When he sees that House looks surprised by the sudden question, he figures maybe he should have just lied and let it go.

“Sooo, this isn't about the new job, Mister I.D.M.?"  
  
"Today was fine," Wilson responds tiredly.  
  
"Okay. Uh, well, I did see the same episode of General Hospital twice in two days,” House says with a shrug.

“House,” Wilson growls, since he figures he might as well get this over with.

“Maybe you could clue me on your thought processes, there, baby doll, so I know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Wilson ignores the pet name for now. He supposes it’s marginally better than ‘pookie bear’ at least. “I…just…wonder what’s going to happen now that I’m working…and-“

“I’m still dead?” House interrupts.

“Uh…yeah.”

“Should I tell you about my continued plans for world domination, then?”

Wilson sighs, an unwitting smile curling the corners of his lips. “Maybe I should live in blissful ignorance for now.”

“Okay,” House shrugs, then eyes Wilson again. “I have some ideas on what to do to occupy myself, you know.”

Wilson slants a glance at him. “Like what?”

House answers, slightly hesitant, “I’m looking into it. I haven’t worked out the details yet. Like, I said, they’re just ideas at the moment.”

That doesn’t particularly make Wilson feel better, but he decides that he’s too worn out to continue this conversation.

“Okay.” Is all he says as he reaches for the door handle.

“Wilson,” House implores, making Wilson stop at his tone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sigh, Wilson drops his hand from the handle again. “That’s not-“

“Yes, it is,” House cuts in. “You’re afraid that the more I sit at home by myself while you go support us, the more I’m going to regret doing what I did, right?”

Damn. Wilson thinks he should have known that House could put more succinctly in ten minutes what it took Wilson all day to figure out for himself.

House flicks his ear, then brings both hands down to fiddle with his cane. “I’m not, okay? And it’s not as though I will sit on my ass all day. For instance, I plan to take the bike out tomorrow.”

That's not really what Wilson meant, but he decides to circle back to the real issue. “You love puzzles,” he elaborates wearily. “Now, you’ve lost a steady supply of them.”

“And what, you think I’ll leave you in search of them?”

Now that it’s said out loud, Wilson realizes that he’s not afraid that will happen.

House, of course, understands that, too. “No,” House answers for himself. “You think I will stay, but resent you for it.”

Wilson’s gaze moves out of the windshield, to the neighbors who are far enough away to be comfortable, to the little white cat that darts out across the quiet street. He could grow to love this, he knows. Having a quiet life with House.

But could House?

Wilson feels the edges of House’s fingers along his cheek, urging him to turn his head. When he does, House sweeps his thumb across his mouth and Wilson can’t help a small smile.

“Do you remember,” House begins quietly. “When Kutner and Taub conspired against me to use my name in some online clinic?”

The Tattooed actress. Wilson remembers them laughing over the whole thing over beer and pizza on House's couch. That feels like a lifetime ago.  


“Well,” House continues at Wilson’s nod. “Obviously I can’t use my name, but I’m looking into doing that myself. There’s a lot I need to iron out…”

“It could work,” Wilson says when House trails off.

"It could.” House taps the floor gently with his cane. “I mean, it’s not going to get me into a hospital, but I don’t _need_ to be in one.”

“But-“

House places a hand over his mouth. “Wilson, listen to me, okay, because I’m only going to say this once. I’m not, after everything we’ve gone through, going to hate you because I can’t practice medicine anymore. I made that choice, and yeah, it was impulsive at the time, but since the alternative would have cost me you, I will find a way to adapt. Okay?”

Wilson feels slightly embarrassed at the tears that gather at the corners of his eyes as he nods.

“And you…you know I love you right?” House says as he drops the hand covering Wilson’s mouth to swipe a thumb across the edges of Wilson’s eyes.

“Yes,” Wilson answers without a hint of hesitation, because that is certainly the one thing he’s never doubted.“I love you, too.”

“Well, duh,” House retorts with a smile. “So come inside and make us dinner. After that, we can make out and watch movies. If you’re super nice to me, it doesn’t necessarily have to be in that order.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Wilson deadpans, a full-grown grin spreading over his face, because that sounds like the best suggestion he’s heard all day.

He leans over for a kiss, which House grants enthusiastically. He shuts the car off again before getting out and leading his lover into their house, House’s hands on his hips the entire time.

It’s taking longer to get there than it should.

But Wilson’s okay with that.

End


End file.
